


Us Being Normal

by Syls Darkplace (sylsdarkplace)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest, Underage Sex, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 10:03:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3130505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylsdarkplace/pseuds/Syls%20Darkplace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Dean figures he’s going to hell, but he’s going with Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where You Lead

The first time it happened Dean was lost.

It wasn’t unusual to wake up with his 14-year-old brother wrapped around him. Sammy was an octopus. To be honest, Dean liked it – the chuff of Sam’s breath against his neck, the weight of his little brother’s arm across his chest, leg over his own, the pounding of his heart when Dean laid his hand on Sam’s chest, but most of all was the reassurance that Sam was okay. He was in Dean’s circle of protection. And it wasn’t uncommon for Dean to spoon his little brother either, to wrap his body protectively around Sammy. To breathe in his scent and soak in his warmth.

This was different. The arm over his chest wasn’t. The leg thrown across him wasn’t either. But Sam’s hard little dick pressed against his thigh … That was different. Morning wood, Dean thought, that’s all. Then Sam’s hips rocked against him, and Sam’s hard on felt like a rock rubbing against Dean’s thigh. 

Dean wanted to believe that Sam was asleep, but the hand on Dean’s chest clutched at his t-shirt. And Sam’s lips were on his neck, moving up his jawline, searching for Dean’s mouth in the dark. The whole time that hard reminder rubbed against his leg, over and over, and maybe all the blood ran to Dean’s dick because he turned his head toward his little brother’s mouth.

This couldn’t be happening with their dad snoring just a few feet away. What the hell had gotten into Sammy, and why the fuck, Dean thought, am I not stopping it? And with that all rational thought ceased.

Sam caught Dean’s bottom lip between his and began suckling it. And holy fuck, Dean felt like he was going to come out of his skin. Sam continued to rut against him, and Dean pushed his tongue into Sam’s mouth. Sam made a small whimpering sound, and his hips jerked hard against Dean’s leg. Dean felt wetness seeping through Sam’s underwear, and Sam rested his head against Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean disentangled himself from his brother’s limbs, and went into the bathroom where he jerked himself to completion remembering the feel of Sam’s skinny limbs wrapped around him with desperate need. The taste of Sam’s sleep-stale mouth was still on his tongue, and that shouldn’t be hot but it was. The skin on his arm stung where Sam had dug his nails in. His lip still throbbed from Sam’s mouth, and his little brother’s jizz was cooling on his thigh as he spilled into a wad of toilet paper.

As Dean headed back to bed, Sam slipped into the bathroom. When he came back to bed, he slid in with his back to Dean. He reached over and got Dean’s hand, and pulled Dean’s arm around him. Dean let him. He pulled Sam’s back against his chest, and Sam sighed.

But Dean was freaking out just a little. It wasn’t that Dean had never thought of Sam that way. He had, but he knew he shouldn’t. And on days when he awoke with morning wood pressed against Sam’s skinny, little ass, he pulled away. 

It wasn’t like Sam didn’t know about sex. He’d been watching cable porn with Dean for a couple of years at least. Dean knew that he probably shouldn’t let Sam watch, but the kid had to learn sometime, and what he didn’t understand he researched at the library or on the internet.

Sam probably knew too much, Dean thought. He had brought girls back to the room on a couple of occasions and fucked them in the dark in his dad’s bed while Sam slept a few feet away. He'd told himself that Sam was sleeping, but probably not. 

Dean knew he’d been reckless, but he had no idea where Sam would go with his knowledge of sex – certainly not where he had. Dean pressed his cheek against Sam’s hair, and Sam relaxed in his arms. Dean’s chest felt warm and full.

Oh man, he was going to hell.

***

Over the next few weeks Dean got used to being awakened by Sam’s late night hump sessions. Hell, he looked forward to it. He’d wake up with his hand on Sam’s tight, little ass feeling the muscles working his pelvis against Dean’s hip. Sam’s hand would slide under Dean’s t-shirt and stroke the skin of his belly and chest.

But not last night. Last night, Sam upped the ante and slid his hand into Dean’s shorts and around his cock. Dean had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. Sam’s thumb slid over the tip of Dean’s dick and then stroked the shaft like, fuck, like a pro. Jesus, how did Sam know how to do that? Dean’s head was arched back into the pillows and he was gasping – fuck, if his dad woke up he’d think Dean was having an asthma attack or something. Sam went right on humping Dean’s leg and sucking at Dean’s neck. The kid could multi-task.

Dean knew it was going to happen. He felt his nuts tighten. He bit back a grunt as he shot into Sam’s hand and his shorts. Sam pulled his hand out and licked his fingers, and oh God, Sam, holy fucking Christ. Sam shoved his cock hard into Dean’s hip and bit down on Dean’s shoulder with a low moan. Sam’s body clenched like a fist around Dean, and Dean thought this was it. This was what he needed, for Sam to be this close.

Sam relaxed against him and within moments his breathing quieted into sleep. Oh no, no, no, Sammy, Dean thought, I’m not waking up in the morning with my underwear glued to my dick. Dean eased out of his little brother’s grasp and headed for the bathroom.

***

“Dean, you okay?” John asked the next morning.

“Yeah, sure, just didn’t sleep well.”

“Sam hogging the bed again?”

“What? No, no.” Dean scooped cereal into his mouth and glanced over at the sleeping form in the bed.

“Well, he ain’t having any trouble sleeping,” John said. He was packing his duffel. He looked around the room to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. “You boys will be okay while I’m gone.”

“Yeah, of course,” Dean said.

John nodded. “Don’t let him sleep all day.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right, I’ll see you in two, maybe three days.” John hefted his bag and went out.

Dean heard his dad’s truck start, and the covers were thrown back on the bed.

“Playin’ possum, Sammy?”

Sam jumped out of bed and started pulling at his underwear. He made a half groaning, half squealing noise. Dean started laughing.

“Dude, you should have cleaned up last night.” He followed Sam to bathroom.

“Shut up.” Sam was trying to gently peal his come-stiffened underwear off. “Owww.”

Dean laughed again. “You’ll never do that again.”

“Fuck you, dick,” Sam said.

“Hey, language,” Dean said and cuffed Sam on the head. “Bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam got his underwear off and wrapped a warm, wet wash cloth around his dick.

“Sam, about last night …”

“Yeah, that was awesome,” Sam said without looking up.

Dean was speechless. Awesome. Holy fuck, what was he supposed to say. It was awesome. I’m going to hell, Dean thought again. 

“Sam …”

Sam looked up. “I know. We need to be more careful when dad’s around. You’re kind of loud.”

Dean opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first.

“Sam, you know what we’re doing is wrong, don’t you? We’re brothers.”

Sam walked around Dean, to the table in the main room. He poured a bowl of Count Chocula with milk. He plopped down in a chair. 

“Dean, everything we do is wrong. Well, not everything, but …” He stuffed a spoonful of cereal in his mouth.

“Sam …”

“Stolen credit cards, stolen identities, illegal weapons, breaking and entering, and then there’s just the ordinary lying, cheating, and stealing. We’re a family of criminals, Dean.” Another shovel of cereal disappeared. 

“Sam, this is different.”

“Why? We aren’t hurting anybody?”

Dean sat down across the table from Sam and put his face in his hands. “Sam … you’re 14 years old. I … Jesus, Sam, I shouldn’t be doing that stuff with you.”

Dean heard the bowl and spoon land on the table with a clatter. And Sam’s hands were on Dean’s wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. Dean looked up. 

“Dean, I started this. You remember that, right? I know you think of me as a little kid, but I know stuff, Dean. I’ve been jacking off for two years … thinking about you. I just don’t see why, if we both like it …” Sam was still holding Dean’s wrists, and he brought Dean’s right hand against his crotch. The little fucker had a hard on. 

“Sam,” Dean’s voice sounded broken. He couldn’t help wanting to give Sam anything he wanted. The kid had so little. No home. No friends. Forget about no mom and rarely a dad. It was just him and Sam. He wanted to give Sam everything he didn’t have, but he couldn’t. But this … was he just rationalizing because it was what he wanted? What he needed? This might be what Sam thought he wanted, but he was just a kid. What he wanted and what he needed were different. Weren’t they?

But maybe Sam was right. They were criminals. Everything they did was wrong – well except for the saving people part, and who were they hurting anyway?

There was a little wet spot on Sam’s clean underwear, and Dean felt all his resistance crumble as blood rushed to his groin. He grabbed Sam’s shorts with both hands and pulled them down to his knees. His hard cock came free, and Dean had his lips wrapped around it before he could stop himself. Sam stroked Dean’s hair and neck. His hands came to rest on Dean’s shoulders.

“Oh God,” he moaned. “Dean, oh…” And he was coming, shooting Dean’s mouth full of jizz. Sam’s knees buckled, and Dean eased him to the floor. 

“Wow,” Sam said, and he was pulling at Dean’s shorts, trying to get to his cock.

“Sam, no, stop it.”

“Dean, I want to.” Sam looked up through shaggy bangs. “Come on, Dean. You’ll like it.” His hands were still searching, and Dean lost his grip. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and pretended … no, he didn’t. He didn’t pretend it wasn’t Sam. 

He could feel the flames.

***

For the next year or so, the boys fell into a routine of quiet, urgent nights when John was around, and anytime, anywhere when he wasn’t. For the past couple of months, they’d been living in an old single-wide trailer. They shared a room, and the walls were thin. So, they still had to be quiet, but it afforded some amount of privacy. John hadn’t been around much either. His hunting trips were more frequent and lasted longer.

Still, he was around enough to feel just a little uncomfortable about his sons’ behavior. There wasn’t anything he could really object to, but they were always touching each other. There were pats on the ass and shoulder rubs, the slide of hand down an arm and the way Sam would lean into Dean’s side while they watched TV. There was nothing really wrong, just too much.

Then there was the day he walked in from a hunt and was hit in the face with it. Well, not all of it. He didn’t know the extent of it. 

Dean was leaning back against the kitchen cabinets with his hands gripping the counter on each side of him. Sam was standing between Dean’s spread feet and his hands on each side of Dean’s face. And they were kissing, mouths open and sliding. Tongues searching. Dean’s arms came up around Sam, and Sam bucked his pelvis into Dean’s. Sam’s mouth moved to Dean’s neck, and Dean’s head dropped back, eyes closed, lips parted.

John was frozen. This could not be happening. Not his boys … Sam was grinding his hips against Dean. John covered the few feet across the kitchen in an instant, grabbed the long hair at the back of Sam’s neck, and pulled him away from his brother. He let go of Sam and sent him sprawling on the floor. Dean looked at him with huge eyes, and then looked away. The color was high on his cheeks, but it could have been shame or arousal. Because, he was. The bulge in his jeans was obvious.

Dean looked cautiously at John, and John backhanded him. Dean’s head snapped to the side, and he did nothing to defend himself. But Sam was on his feet and clutching his father’s arm. John turned and raised his hand to his younger son, and Dean grabbed it from behind.

“No, it’s not Sammy’s fault,” Dean said.

John dropped his arm and turned. “No, it isn’t,” John said with a look of disgust. “Jesus Christ, Dean, what kind of sick …”

“No, Dad, it was all my idea. Dean didn’t want to,” Sam pleaded.

John looked at his younger son with disbelief, then back at Dean.

“Go to your room, Sam.”

“No, Dad …”

“Go to your room now, Sam.”

“It’s okay, Sam. Do what Dad tells you.” Dean looked pleadingly at his little brother.

John waited for Sam to leave the room.

“Is it true? It was Sam’s idea?”

Dean was standing with his arms wrapped protectively around himself. He didn’t say a word.

John let out a sigh. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, although he knew it did matter. It mattered a lot. “You’re older. It’s you responsibility to do the right thing, Dean.”

Dean nodded but didn’t look up.

“Look at me. You know that, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You don’t ever let your brother touch you that way again. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

And he didn’t. Not for at least a week. Not until the next time John went on a hunting trip.

***

Over the next year or so, the boys became more careful, more surreptitious. Sam became unnaturally attuned to John’s movements. He seemed to be able to sense when John was coming home hours before he did, and Sam inevitably wanted urgent, even reckless sex when it happened. Still, he always gave them plenty of time.

And Dean kept things at hands and mouths. It wasn’t that Sam didn’t want more. Hell, he’d demanded more, but Dean didn’t budge on the subject. He might be a pervert, but he wasn’t going there with his no longer so little brother.

So things could have been worse when John returned unexpectedly just hours after he’d left. He’d gotten a call from Bobby that Rufus had already dispatched the spirit that had been tormenting a family in Erie, Pennsylvania. He’d turned the truck around and headed back.

The boys thought they were home free for a couple of days, and Sam was ready to go the minute he walked in the door after school, but being the responsible older brother, Dean made him do his homework first. By then Sam had to admit to hunger, and by the time they’d finished off a pizza and couple beers, Sam was ready to shove Dean down on the kitchen floor. Dean managed to convince him the bedroom wasn’t that far away, and that’s where John found them.

The house was strangely quiet. The Impala was out front, so John was pretty sure the boys were home. There was a light on the kitchen and from a room down the hall. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t call out. Instead, he headed down the hall. 

Dean was on his back on Sam’s bed, and Sam was on top of him. They were both naked from the waist up, and the sheet was pulled up to the upper curve of Sam’s ass. John could tell by the way the sheet was tented that Dean’s legs were spread, and Sam was lying between them. Their eyes were closed, and Sam was sucking on Dean’s bottom lip. Dean was moaning and his arm was moving between their bodies … 

John backed out of the doorway and pulled the door shut with a bang. He barely made it to the bathroom before losing the Big Mac and fries he’d eaten on the way home. He splashed water on his face and stared into the mirror. God, how had they ended up here? 

He went into the kitchen and got out the bourbon. He sat down at the table and poured a drink and then another. And another.

Dean came to the kitchen doorway, but John didn’t look up.

“If you ever touch your brother again, I’ll send him away. I know people who will take him in. You won’t see him again,” John said. Dean didn’t move or say a word. John looked up. “Tell me you understand.”

“Yes, sir, I understand.” Dean could sense Sam standing behind him in the hallway. Wanted to reach back and touch him but couldn’t. Dean started to turn away. “From now on, you go with me on hunts. Sam’s old enough to stay by himself.” 

Dean felt a twist of panic in his gut. He started to speak, hesitated.

“You got something to say?” John asked.

“No, sir.”

***

The next day when Sam got home from school, he found that the bedroom door had been removed. 

He tried to talk to Dean.

“No, Sam.”

“But, Dean …”

“No, you heard what Dad said. He’ll send you away.”

He tried to talk to John.

“We’re not discussing this, Sam.”

“But, Dad …”

“You’re a bright kid, Sam. You can handle anything that comes up while Dean and I are gone. End of discussion.”

John ignored Dean’s silence and Sam’s pouting. He ignored the tension, not just between himself and the boys, but between the two of them. They didn’t talk to each other anymore, and John hated that. But it was better than the alternative, he thought. But after a few weeks the tension was even wearing him down.

John was sitting on the sofa, drinking a beer, and watching the news. The boys were in the kitchen making dinner. As usual, there was silence. Then he heard Dean’s voice, but couldn’t make out any words.

“Stop it,” Sam said.

Again, John heard Dean’s voice.

“I said, stop it, Dean.”

“Don’t be such a pussy, Sammy.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey!” Dean barked.

“Boys!” John yelled.

“Don’t do that again, Sam,” Dean growled.

John heard bang and a scrambling sound.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Sam yelled.

“You little shit!”

There was a crash, and John headed for the kitchen. Both boys were on the floor. Dean was straddling Sam’s stomach. He had a hold of one of Sam’s wrists, and Sam’s shirt was wadded in his other fist. Sam was pushing against Dean’s chest with his free hand.

“Get off me, you dick.”

“What so you can take another swing at me?”

“That’s enough!” John roared. He grabbed Dean and pulled him to his feet. “Clean up this mess, and not another word out of either of you.” He went back to the living room and continued drinking.

Sam got up and left the room, leaving Dean staring at the remains of dinner all over the floor.

***

The next morning Dean was at the kitchen table eating cereal in peace. John had dragged himself off the couch and into his bedroom with a bang of the door. Sam’s alarm went off, Dean heard the shower start. 

Dean had already showered and planned on heading down to the garage to see if Mr. Culver could use some help. Maybe, he thought, he should go ahead and leave to avoid seeing Sam. Maybe, he should wait around and see if Sam wanted a ride to school. He bit his lip and winced. Sam had landed a pretty good punch. Dean stuck his tongue out and explored the cut in the corner of lip. Little shit.

He turned from the sink, and Sam was standing in the doorway.

“Dean …”

Dean waved a hand at him. “Forget about it, Sammy. You want a ride to school?”

“No.” Sam straightened up. “I’m not going to school. I can’t do this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m leaving.” Sam stuck his chin out. 

“You’re what?”

“I’m leaving. I can’t live with him, Dean.” Sam dropped his gaze. He stared at the toes of his sneakers. When he looked back up his eyes were shining. “I gotta leave.”

“Like hell you are.” Dean started toward him, and then held himself back. His heart was racing, and his mind searched for something, anything to change Sam’s mind.

“You can come with me,” Sam said softly.

“Sam …” 

“Please, Dean.” Sam crossed the few feet between them and put his hands on Dean’s shoulders. “How much longer can you stand this?”

“Sammy.” Dean shook his head.

“I can’t, Dean. What happened last night … I don’t want that. And you don’t. I know you don’t,” Sam pleaded. “Let’s go. Right now. He’ll be asleep for hours …”

“No, Sam, we can’t do that.”

Sam dropped his hands to his sides. “Well, I’m leaving, Dean. Don’t try to stop me.” He turned and went back to the bedroom. 

When Dean caught up with him, Sam was stuffing clothes in his duffel bag. Dean hesitated only a moment before he tossed his duffel bag onto his bed and started filling it. Neither of them spoke as they got their things together.

Dean heard the zipper close on Sam’s duffel just before he finished packing. Sam had his backpack over his shoulder.

“You’re sure about this?” Dean asked. 

Sam nodded. “You?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.”


	2. Ties That Bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean have built a new life for themselves, but John can’t accept it.

Sam ran the gauntlet of drop outs and druggies as he entered the apartment building. He’d caught some crap from them when they’d first moved there almost six months ago. It was a tough neighborhood, but Sam was a deceptively tough kid.

They were in St. Louis, living in Section VIII housing, but it was in the best school district they could manage. Dean made sure of that. They were trying to stay in one place until Sam graduated from high school. Then, they’d move whereever Sam decided to go to college. That’s what Sam wanted, and Dean wanted it for him.

And staying in one place hadn’t prevented them from finding plenty of hunts in the Midwest. They’d traveled all over the tri-state area and beyond. Sam felt good about the way they were living. They were still helping people while having a real life. He liked their crappy little apartment because it was theirs. The bed smelled like them, and they had real towels. He still bought clothes at Goodwill, but he had more than would fit in a single duffel bag. 

“Fuck,” Sam said under his breath when he saw the out-of-order sign on the elevator. Still, it wasn’t much for him to run up four flights of stairs. He let himself into the apartment and dropped his backpack in the hallway. He smelled dinner cooking accompanied by the sound of sizzling meat.

“Hey,” he said as he entered the galley kitchen. Dean was standing at the stove frying hamburgers. Macaroni boiled on the back burner. Sam picked up the yellow box and smiled.

“You don’t work tonight?”

“No, not tonight.” Dean had a shiny new Missouri driver’s license with the name Dean Coverdale on it and a birth date making him a year older. He’d gotten a job tending bar, which actually paid better than the job he’d had as a mechanic. Dean made great tips. He could talk sports with the guys and flirt up the single women. They just didn’t understand why he never took them home.

“So you made my favorite meal? What’s the occasion?” Sam asked. Dean didn’t know how to cook much, and they had hamburgers and macaroni and cheese at least once a week.

“Tuesday,” Dean replied. “If you want vegetables, look in the freezer. 

Sam dug around in the freezer until he found a bag of frozen broccoli. Dean wouldn’t bother with vegetables, but if Sam microwaved them, Dean would eat some.

After dinner, Sam spread his homework out on the table, and Dean sat on the sofa watching a cop show. Sam kept glancing over at his brother. He’d been kind of quiet lately. Finally, Sam laid his pen down and got up. 

Sam went to the couch and straddled his brother’s lap. He was still long and lean, but he completely blocked Dean's view. “Dean, is everything okay?”

“Sam, I can’t see my show.”

Sam wiggled his ass against Dean’s lap. “Dean …”

“Everything is fine, Sammy.” Dean put his hands on his brother’s hips. 

“No, something’s bothering you.”

Dean sighed. “Honestly, I’m bothered by how okay everything is. I feel like I should be feeling wrong about the way we took off and the way we’re living, but I don’t.”

Sam kissed him, tongue sliding between Dean’s teeth and sweeping into his mouth, across the ridges and dips of the roof, almost into his throat. Dean sucked on Sam’s tongue, and Sam could feel Dean’s cock pushing against him.

This was so good, so right, Sam thought. Them together like this whenever. It could only be better … Holy fuck, Dean was biting his neck. Sam tried pulling away.

“Come on,” he urged, wanting to take this in the bedroom.

“You need to do your homework,” Dean said against his neck.

Sam chuckled. “Later, Mom, I’ll do it later.” He managed to slide off Dean’s lap and pulled his brother into the bedroom. 

They were both naked before they reached the bed, and Sam pulled Dean down on top of him. It didn’t take much friction before Dean was kneeling between Sam’s legs and sucking his cock down. Sam moaned and wove his fingers through Dean’s hair. 

“Mmm, Dean … oh fuck.” There was no doubt that’s Dean’s lips fulfilled every promise their lushness implied.

Dean let off long enough to lick his fingers and push one into Sam’s asss. Sam’s hips bucked. Dean precome coated his tongue. God, he loved the taste. Salty and sweet--his favorite flavor of Sam.

He kept up the pace on Sam’s cock and slid another finger into his hole. Sam was squirming and moaning and trying to fuck himself on Dean’s fingers. 

“Dean, Dean, wait,” Sam gasped. “Dean.”

He pulled off Sam’s cock. “What, Sammy?”

“Fuck me.”

“Sam.”

Sam groaned. “God, please, Dean, you want to.”

“Sam, we’ve …”

“Why? Why? What are we waiting for, huh?”

“When you’re 18.”

“Fine, I’ll go get a fake license tomorrow.”

Dean laughed because, yeah, that was the Winchester way. Something not true? Make it true.

“You already have one that makes you 21, so that dog don’t hunt,” Dean reminded him.

“Now, Dean.” Sam reached into the drawer of the nightstand and got out a bottle of lube. He tossed it at his brother. “Now.”

Dean looked down at his fingers disappearing into his brother and thought, what am I waiting for, because the feel of Sam silky and hot around him made his dick jump, and his skin felt too tight. He was burning up. 

He pulled his fingers out and slicked his cock with lube. He pressed the head of his cock against Sam’s asshole and looked up at his brother. Sam lifted his legs higher and bit his lip. Dean pushed and felt like his cock was hardwired to his heart, his soul.

“Oh fuck, Sammy, ohgGodohfuckingGodohmyGod.” Sam was so hot and soft and tight wrapped around his cock, and, oh God, his channel gripped and loosened and, Jesus Christ, this was better than pussy, better than a blow job, like both, but … holy fuck, he looked into Sam's eyes. Dean's breath caught in his throat at how vulnerable Sam was making himself, the trust he was offering, and then he smirked. "Gonna write me a poem?" he asked. 

"Fuck you," Dean said.

"Yeah, yeah," Sam sighed as Dean sank deeper into him. "That's real pretty."

Dean started to move. Sam’s fingers clutched at Dean’s thighs hard enough to bruise, and Sam’s head was thrown back. His lashes fluttered. 

Dean’s hand wrapped around Sam’s cock, and he stroked it to the rhythm of his thrusts. This was it. Dean was his completely, irreversibly. Sam felt like the top of his head was going to come off. He felt so full, so on edge, and then the head of Dean’s cock began to rub over this prostate – a burst of pleasure erupted low in his belly with each thrust, and he forgot how to form words and just moaned in time to Dean’s movements. Suddenly, Sam’s heels dug into Dean’s ribs, he lifted off the bed.

“Ah fuck!” His legs went stiff, forcing his ass up onto Dean’s cock. Dean felt Sam’s cock become rock hard in his hand and come shot across Sam’s belly. Sam grabbed Dean’s hand and licked his palm, sucked his fingers.

Dean felt an electric jolt down his spine, and he was shooting hard into Sam’s ass. And why was the thought of that so hot? Spilling his seed into his little brother's belly. He forced his cock in hard, riding out the orgasm, muscles trembling and cock twitching. He road it out with another hard, short thrust, and another. 

“Sam, Sammy, God.” 

Sam pulled him down into a kiss.

“Was that good?” Sam whispered in his ear.

Dean pressed his face into the curve of Sam’s neck and nodded. It was everything he ever wanted. His Sammy. His alone.

***

John had looked hard for the boys at first, but it was clear that Dean had done everything he knew how to cover their tracks. They’d shut off both their cell phones and thrown out all the credit cards John had access to. They hadn’t contacted anyone John knew. They had at least a 24 hour head start because at first John didn’t realize that they’d run off, and when he did, he was too much in denial or drunk to do anything about it. 

He still couldn’t believe it. He could believe that Sam would runaway. Sam had a defiant streak, but Dean had always been the obedient one. The good soldier. John had to admit to himself though that it wasn’t true. Not really. Not where Sam was concerned. Looking back he could think of any number of times when Dean had disobeyed his orders for Sam. 

When Sam was a toddler and John had told Dean to get rid of the pacifiers, he’d come home to find one stuck in Sam’s pouty little mouth. He’d collected them all and thrown them away. Sam had been fussy for a week and wouldn’t let John touch him without going stiff as a board and screaming bloody murder. Dean had taken his little brother from their father’s arms and slipped his finger into Sam’s mouth. Sam, cheeks red and wet with tears, had looked accusingly at John while contentedly sucking on his brother’s finger. And then he’d laid his head on Dean’s shoulder and curled his pudgy little fingers into the hair at nape of Dean’s neck. John could hear Dean humming Smoke on the Water as he walked away.

When Sam was in elementary school, he kept asking to go to the zoo, but John never had the money or the time. He finally got frustrated at Sam’s pleading and told him to shut up about it. Sam had walked away in tears. A few weeks later John found ticket stubs for the zoo in the pocket of Dean’s jacket when he was looking for some change. He didn’t confront Dean about skipping school with is little brother or where he’d gotten the money. He’d let it go because he felt guilty. If Dean could find a way to take Sam to the zoo, why hadn’t he?

And this sexual thing between them … it was just the latest thing they’d defied him on. God, if he’d known where it would all lead, he never would have let any of it go. He knew he wasn’t without fault. They shouldn’t have been sleeping together all that time. And Dean … he shouldn’t have let Dean show Sam so much physical affection: the way Dean would pet Sam’s hair, kiss his forehead and nose, sleep curled around little Sammy. Even as they got older, they were always touching. It had struck him as wrong even then, but the boys were so alone with no mother … He’d allowed it to happen. During his frequent absences they’d had only each other and no supervision. Dean was always so stalwart, so willing to take on whatever responsibilities John had given him that it never occurred to John that Dean couldn’t handle them.

And now … he knew they’d regret their behavior. This thing between them could only hurt them in the end. But they were too young to understand it. Someday, they would want normal lives and families and then this filthy secret between them would destroy their relationship; maybe any chance they had for a normal life.

***

Dean awoke, immediately aware that he was alone in the bed. Still, his arm reached across the bed just in case. School day, he thought, Sam was already up and gone. He rolled over and buried his face in Sam’s pillow; breathed in Sam’s scent. His chest felt too full to contain what he was feeling. It wasn’t sexual. It was the one constant in his life, comfort, need, trust, love. It was home. His only home. And yet on the far edge … there was lust.

What they’d done the night before changed things. Dean knew it. He had known it would. There was no going back now, and he couldn’t regret it because it … If he had thought that things between him and Sam couldn’t be any more tangled, he was wrong. 

He rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling. He would never be able to not have this with Sam. They could never just be brothers.

***

Dean had thrown out the credit cards and the cell phones, but he couldn’t get rid of the one thing that would bring John to their door – the Impala. John had been in St. Louis a day when he spotted it on the street in front of a bar. Even with Missouri plates, he was sure it was Dean’s car. John cruised around the block and parked around the corner. He got out and strolled casually by, keeping an eye out for Dean. Sure enough, he recognized the leather jacket in the back seat and the pile of cassettes in the front.

He went back to the used truck he’d picked up from Bobby a couple of weeks earlier and watched. He’d followed Dean back to the apartment building that night, and followed the city bus Sam rode to school the next morning. He’d been following his sons for almost a week – to work, to school, to the store. He’d followed them to an old train depot outside the city two nights earlier that had turned out to have been the home base of a vengeful spirit of train conductor. The boys had dispatched it with little trouble.

John was proud and relieved that they were still hunting at least. Still, he couldn’t just leave town, but he couldn’t bring himself to walk up to their door either. What could he possibly say to them. He didn’t approve, couldn’t approve. He and Sam would fight, and Dean would take Sam’s side. That much was clear. He should leave town. They knew how to find him, if things ever changed.

That didn’t explain why he was watching the apartment building that evening when the boys came out. He was struck again by the fact that Sam was now taller than Dean. They were laughing, and Dean playfully pushed at Sam’s shoulder. Sam pushed back hard enough to make Dean stumble. Dean cuffed Sam on the back of the head. John felt tears burning in his eyes. No one seeing that would know better, he thought.

He followed them to a club across town where, despite getting carded, they were both allowed in. Sam’s height and a fake I.D. got him into the bar. John waited 15 minutes and followed them. Once inside, he kept to the shadows. It would be too easy to be spotted in a place like this. On the other hand, it wasn’t that hard to remain hidden in the shadows. 

John saw Dean at the bar talking to a female bartender, and he could see from his son’s body language that he was turning on the full charm. John circled around the room and spotted Sam leaning against the wall at the back talking to a man in his late twenties. He had to look up at Sam, but he was leaning toward him in a way that said he was very interested. He wore a t-shirt with the arms cut off that showed off his muscular arms, and his jeans were slung low. Sam was either oblivious to the come on or a very good actor because he never lost his good-natured smile, which showed off his dimples. His body language never changed. 

John’s gaze swept back to the bar and froze on Dean. He’d never seen a look like that on his eldest son’s face before, but it may have been where the term green-eyed monster came from. It took only moments for Dean to reach Sam’s side, and Sam looked surprised and a little amused at first. The guy hitting on Sam looked annoyed. His hand dropped from the wall to Sam’s shoulder. That was a very stupid thing to do, John thought. He started moving through the crowd toward the trio at the back of the club.

Dean moved between the guy and Sam, and he felt Sam’s hands on his shoulders.

“Get your hands off him,” Dean said to the sleazy dick bag in front of him.

“Dean, Dean, come on. We were just talking,” Sam said.

“Listen, buddy, he was flirting with me. I don’t see any dog tags on him.” The asshole shrugged. “It’s not like you own him. We’re all free agents.”

Dean turned and looked at Sam. “That right, Sammy? You a free agent?” Dean put a hand in the middle of Sam’s chest and pushed him against the wall.

“Dean.” Sam put his hands out in a gesture of surrender, and Dean leaned in and kissed him. He shoved his thigh between Sam’s legs and his tongue into Sam’s mouth. He felt his little brother’s hands slide under his shirt and up his back. And Sam’s tongue shoved back. His dick went hard, and Dean felt it pressed against his thigh. Dean rubbed his leg against Sam’s cock, and Sam’s head thumped back against the wall.

“Dean,” Sam gasped. “We’re supposed to be working. Vampires, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, right.” Dean stepped back from Sam, and turned to the figure next to him. Instead of the sleaze ball, his father stood there.

“You two might want to get a room,” John said tightly.

***

Dean handed John a beer and sat on the other end of the couch. Sam slouched warily in the chair on the other side of Dean. 

“So, how’d you find us?” Dean asked.

“Just happened to see the Impala in front of that bar you work at.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth and smirked. “What are the odds?”

“You know, you could have let me know the two of you were okay,” John said and leaned forward.

Sam sat up straighter. “We can take care of ourselves. You know that,” he said.

“Sam,” Dean said.

“How’s school?” John asked.

“He’s on the honor roll,” Dean said.

“I’m always on the honor roll,” Sam said.

“Yeah,” John said. “You always have been. Despite everything.”

Sam scowled and left the room.

John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Sam and I are fine,” Dean said.

John stared at Dean until Dean looked away. “What I saw in that bar was not fine.”

“Dad … I can’t … I understand, I get it.” Dean was staring down into his beer. “But Sam, he’s everything, Dad.” He looked up at John. His look begged John to try to understand. John looked away. 

“I don’t think you do understand, Dean. You’ll regret this. You both will. Someday, you’ll want to have a normal life, a family … and this, this thing with Sam …”

Dean looked away. 

“Dean.”

“You know what, Dad, this is us being normal.”

The words hit John in the gut like a sucker punch. After a moment, he got up and left the apartment. His vision was blurred as he exited the building, and he swiped at his eyes with his sleeve.

“Dad.”

John turned and saw Sam standing in the shadows next to the building. He hesitated before walking over to his youngest son. 

“You and Dean … is everything okay?” Sam had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie.

“No, Sam, everything isn’t okay. Why would you even ask that?”

“Dad, it’s important to Dean.”

“But not to you?”

“It’s not the same.” Sam looked away and sighed. 

“I could make you come with me, you know. You’re still a minor.”

Sam glared at him. “You couldn’t make me stay.”

“I know,” John said. “Sam, aren’t you concerned that this could hurt Dean?”

“You just don’t understand, Dad.” Sam looked so sad. “We’re everything we need.”

“Sam. God, Sam.” John raised his hands and then let them drop to his sides. He wanted to hug his son and at the same time to smack some sense into him. Okay, John told himself, Sam’s the reasonable one. Reason with him. “Sam, I know you don’t think so now, but someday you and Dean will want something else – homes and families and what you’re doing, Sam … this, this thing it will poison that.”

Sam stuck his jaw out. “Do you really think I’ll ever want anything more than I do Dean? He defied you, Dad – you and all your orders. It wasn’t just about what I want.”

“Maybe not, but you could stop it, Sam.”

Sam let out a bitter laugh. “You think I would do that to Dean because you want it? No. No fucking way.”

“Sam.”

“No,” Sam said angrily. “Forget it. I won’t do that to him, just so you’ll feel better.”

“God damn it, Sam. You’re a kid. You don’t know …”

Sam just turned and walked back into the building, leaving John standing on the sidewalk with fists clenched.


	3. The Lies That Come Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know, the truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in."

Dean liked Palo Alto mostly. The mild weather and liberal attitudes fitted him just fine. Sometimes he wished that he and Sam had presented themselves as a couple and not brothers when they’d arrived, but it was too late now. The restraint it took to not touch each other in public wore thin, and he hated seeing other people hit on Sam not that he thought Sam was the least bit interested in any of them ... even when it was natural that he should be. Still, sometimes it ate at him that they couldn't let anyone know.

But really, he couldn’t complain. Sam had gotten a free ride to Stanford. He’d started out as pre-law because with all the illegal they pulled it didn’t hurt to know the law, but he’d switched to anthropology because, he’d reasoned, he needed to know everything he could about the lore and religions of the world. It could only help them in their hunting. Dean questioned why Sam was spending four years studying for a degree, if all they were going to do was keep hunting. But Sam loved it – loved stuffing his big brain full of ideas and facts – so it was good by Dean.

And they’d found plenty of things to hunt on the west coast since they’d arrived – all over California, up into Oregon and over into Nevada.

Dean had found a bartending job right away. It was college kind of hang out, but frequented by the geeks and freaks, not the frat boys or jocks. Sam’s friends hung out there, and Dean liked being able to keep an eye on his little brother while he worked. He knew if Sam wasn’t at the bar, he was probably at the library or home studying. Sam liked it too. He liked knowing that Dean was nearby. Dean would give him free Cokes and make sure he took breaks to eat. Even studying at a bar, the kid could lose track of time.

Dean pushed a rum and Coke across the bar and glanced at the back corner table where Sam was drinking beer with his friends Jess and Mike. Jess’ breasts rested on the table as she leaned across to say something to Mike who was grinning like a madman. Sam was looking at Dean over their bent heads. He smiled broadly and winked. Dean bit his lip and got back to work. 

He served a couple Goth kids at the end of the bar and a sad nerd by the cash register. The guy could really use his hair washed and a new shirt, Dean thought. He still wouldn’t stand a chance with a girl, but at least he wouldn’t repulse them. When he looked up, Sam was leaning on the bar.

“Hey,” Dean said leaning in. Just a few more inches and their lips would touch, and it was all Dean could do to not close the distance. Sam’s lips twitched into a smile, eyes dilating, and that … Dean jerked his head in the direction of the back room. Sam’s eyes went wide, but he moved to the door beyond the bar. 

As soon as they were through the door, Dean shoved Sam against the wall and crushed their mouths together. He licked along Sam’s lower lip and pressed his thigh between Sam’s legs. And, God, Sam was already half hard. Dean thrust his tongue into Sam’s mouth, tasting beer and pizza. Sam moaned into Dean’s mouth and rubbed against Dean’s thigh. Dean was sucking at Sam’s neck, his hands mapping out the skin under Sam’s t-shirt.

“Dean, Dean, dude, we can’t do this here.”

“Yeah,” Dean breathed against Sam’s neck. “Yeah.” He went still with his forehead resting on Sam’s shoulder. 

“You working until close?”

Dean just growled in response. Sam laughed and pushed against Dean’s shoulders. Sam leaned against the wall, all loose limbed and flushed, holding Dean at arm’s length when Jess peered into the darkened back room.

“Hey, Sam, umm, could you walk me home?”

Sam pushed off from the wall. “Sure, absolutely.” He turned back to Dean as he made to follow Jess. Dean caught his arm and pulled him close.

“She’s got a massive crush on you, dude,” Dean said in Sam’s ear.

Sam huffed. “We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, says you,” Dean said. “Sam, just, you know, don’t lead her on.”

“I wouldn’t …”

“I know you wouldn’t, Sammy.”

***

Now that Sam was out of the bar, he felt the effects of the beer. He had a pleasantly buzzy feeling in his head and his muscles felt heavy and loose. He and Jess walked along in companionable silence for a few blocks before he felt the tension that would lead to some inevitably awkward conversation. It had become a sixth sense with Sam. He wondered if Dean had it too. His whole life it had been the same. Just when he started to make friends, they’d start asking questions that would force him to lie to them. And once you start lying to friends, they weren’t really friends anymore. He felt the beer buzz fall away before Jess even spoke.

“Sam?” she said quietly.

“Hmm?”

“It’s just you and Dean, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I mean our dad … umm, I don’t know. We haven’t heard from him in awhile. So yeah, I guess, it’s just us.”

“He’s really protective of you.” He glanced over at her. She was looking down at the ground as it passed beneath her feet. “I mean, he keeps an eye on you all the time.”

Sam just shrugged. He couldn’t quite imagine what it would be like not to have Dean’s attention that way. He’d always been there – from scraped knees from falls from bikes to broken ribs and stitches from black dog attacks, Dean had always been there to patch him up.

“It doesn’t bother you,” she said.

“Why would it bother me?” he asked a little sharply. He shouldn’t have to explain. But this is how it happened when friends started asking questions. This is when the difference in their lives, normal lives, came crashing against his. He could be content, comfortable with his life, and then a friend would start asking him questions he couldn’t quite answer truthfully, and he’d start to feel defensive and protective of his life with his brother.

“I didn’t mean … I’m sorry. It’s nice that he cares about you so much. It’s just, you know, most kids our age wouldn’t want their big brother looking over their shoulder all the time.”

Sam shrugged again. “It isn’t all the time. Dean knows I can take care of myself. But it is just us. We look out for each other.”

“That’s nice. I think that’s really nice. I like him.” She smiled up at Sam. “I bet nobody ever bullied you in school.”

“We moved around a lot. Dean taught me how to look out for myself,” he said. The night was cool, and he realized he’d left his hoodie back at the bar. It wasn’t just Dean, of course. Dad had taught them both how to fight, to shoot, to kill. They were lethal weapons to John. Like guns or knives. Another weapon to aim at monsters.

“Yeah, still it must be a good feeling … I mean I wish I had someone like that to look out for me.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, a small smile on her lips.

“What? You have a great family. I mean, from what you’ve said – your mom and dad, your sister…”

“Yeah. Yeah, they are great. I mean I’m lucky, you know.” She stopped suddenly and grabbed Sam’s arm, turning him toward her. “In fact, Sam, I was thinking … umm, Christmas isn’t far off, you know, and it isn’t far, I thought maybe you and Dean would like to come to my parents' house for Christmas dinner.”

“Wow, umm, maybe, yeah,” Sam felt a strange mix of affection for Jess and panic at the thought of him and Dean trying to fit into someone’s family Christmas. “I’ll have to talk to Dean.”

“Yeah, you do that, Sam. I mentioned it to my mom, and she’s all for it. The more the merrier, you know. It’s really casual and all.”

They’d just started down the sidewalk again, when a figure stepped from between two apartment buildings. Sam immediately saw the glint of steel in his hand. The figure blocked their path and raised his arm. Sam didn’t think, not for a moment. He stepped forward, grabbed the man’s wrist, and twisted. He felt the crunch of bone and heard the scream in his ear, but he didn’t stop. Still holding the attackers broken wrist in his left hand he raised his right arm and shoved the heel of his hand into the man’s nose. He felt the explosion of cartilage and blood under his hand. He let go and stepped back. The man went to his knees on the sidewalk. 

Sam grabbed Jess’s arm and pulled her across the street. He slid his arm around her waist and practically carried her along the sidewalk to her apartment building. She didn’t seem to be crying, but he could hear her breath coming in gasps. When the got to her apartment, he took her keys from her shaking hand and let them in. He pushed her down in a kitchen chair. She was still shaking and panting.

“Jess. Jess, come on, calm down. It’s okay.”

She looked up with wide eyes. “You … you, Jesus, Sam, you just …” 

He smiled slightly. “I told you, I can take care of myself. Now, just calm down.” He went to the kitchen sink and washed the blood off his hand.

“You got something to drink?”

“Yeah, yeah, vodka in the freezer,” she said shakily.

“That’ll do.” Sam pulled the bottle out of the freezer and got a couple glasses out of the dish drainer. He poured a shot in each and pushed one across the table to her. “Here. This’ll calm you down.”

Jess downed the shot and made a face against the burn. They sat quietly for a moment. Sam drank his shot and poured them each another.

“Aren’t you … aren’t you a little upset, Sam?” Jess asked quietly.

Sam shrugged. He knew he should pretend, but he was still on an adrenaline high. He hadn’t had enough vodka to dull that yet. He shrugged. “He had it coming. Maybe he’ll think twice before trying that with anyone again.”

Jess just looked at him like she didn’t know him, and fuck, if he hadn’t seen that look before. He should be her knight in shining armor, and instead, he was some kind of alien being. He was going to feel like shit later. He knew it. 

“Sam, when you said you could take care of yourself, I … That was … Did Dean teach you that?” She didn’t look up, just played with her glass.

“My dad, really, he was a Marine. He taught us both. Look, Jess, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No.” She looked up now with bright eyes. “No, he scared me. I appreciate, you know, what you did. It’s just … You think that guy’s okay?”

Sam shrugged. “Who cares.” Sam stood. “You going to be okay now? I really need to get back.”

Just then they heard door opened and Jess’s roommate came in. 

“Listen, Jess, it’s probably better if you don’t tell anyone what happened.”

She nodded. “Okay. Yeah.” Jess stood and caught his hand. “Sam, thanks, really. You’re my hero.”

He smiled then and nodded. “I’m just glad I was with you.” Sam lifted his arms for their usual good-bye hug, and she stepped into it without hesitation. But she didn’t relax into it like she usually did. He felt the tension in her shoulders and stepped away. 

“Bye, Jess.”

***

Sam slid onto the stool at the end of the bar. Dean tossed his hoodie to him and slid a beer across the bar. 

“Put that on. There’s blood on your shirt,” Dean said with a frown. 

Fuck, Sam thought. Dean already knew something had happened, and moments later Dean was leaning on the bar with a questioning look on his face. God, Sam hated that face, that ‘don’t bullshit me, Sam,’ face.

“Mugger.”

“Jess, okay?”

“Physically.”

“Mugger?”

“He’ll live.”

Dean nodded and went back to work. Sam drank about half his beer in one long gulp. Funny, no one ever questioned whether Dean’s little brother was old enough to drink. Dean yelled last call, and Sam slumped on his stool. Dean slipped another beer in front of Sam as he finished the first.

The lights came up and kids started wandering out into the night. Sam watched Dean clean up behind the bar. Washing glasses, dumping trash, wiping down surfaces, every movement was efficient and purposeful. He watched his brother’s hands quick and sure, and couldn’t wait to have them on him. He licked his lips and caught Dean’s eye. Sam finished his beer and felt the adrenaline high slipping away. He was left with a slight headache.

Dean smiled and locked the cash register. “Ready to go, Sammy?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice husky. 

Dean laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

***

Dean barely got the door open before Sam was pulling at his clothes and pushing his tongue into Dean’s mouth. Sam toed his sneakers off in the hallway while pulling Dean’s shirt up. Dean pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Then he turned them around and pressed Sam to the wall. He kissed Sam long and deep, nipping his lips and tongue. Dean relaxed into the soft, wet of Sam’s mouth, but Sam was frantic, pulling at Dean as though he wanted inside his skin. Dean pulled back, holding Sam’s face in his hands.

“Sammy, hey, what’s wrong?”

Sam closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. “Nothing.” He shook his head.

Dean ran his hands through his brother’s hair. He searched his face noticing every nuance – the tension around his eyes, the way he compressed his lips and clenched his jaw. 

“Sam.”

Sam leaned forward and pressed his face against the curve of Dean’s neck. 

“Can’t we just go to bed?” He nosed under Dean’s ear. “I need you.”

“Yeah, baby, sure.” Dean took Sam’s hand and led him to the bedroom. Sam knew the conversation was only postponed, but that was okay. He didn’t need talk right now, and the moment they were through the bedroom doorway, Sam was shucking off his clothes. Dean wasn’t far behind.

Sam pushed Dean down onto the bed and covered him with his body. Weighing him down, owning him. Sam pushed his tongue into Dean’s mouth, sucking and licking, he worked his way across Dean’s jaw and down his neck. Nipping at his taught stomach muscles and dipping his tongue into Dean’s navel, until he reached Dean’s hard, leaking cock, which he sucked into his mouth, swallowing it down to the base. Pulling up, he licked up the underside of his brother’s thick shaft. 

Dean growned. “Sam, Sam, Sam, fuck.” He tangled his fingers in Sam’s hair. Sam let off Dean’s cock and sucked two of his own fingers into his mouth, getting them sloppy wet, before pressing one to Dean’s hole as he sucked Dean’s cock back into his mouth. Dean’s hips came up off the bed. It was too much, not enough. Sam pushed a second finger in, and those talented fingers found his sweet spot while Sam’s wicked mouth was swirling around his dick.

“Sam, aagh, God …”

Sam pulled off Dean’s cock, but his fingers kept rubbing across Dean’s prostate, opening and loosening his hole. “I want to fuck you,” Sam said locking gazes with Dean, who was nodding and raising his knees almost before the words were out of Sam’s mouth. Sam scrambled to kneel, pulled Dean’s hips up, slicked the copious amount of precome onto his cock, and pushed into him. Dean arched off the bed and threw his head back, and Sam watched. Dean was so beautiful. His skin shone with sweat, freckles scattered across his chest, muscles bunching. His eyelashes fluttered against flushed cheeks. The tip of his tongue flicked out to wet his bruised lips. And he opened his lust dark eyes and looked right into Sam’s. 

“Fuck me.”

And Sam did. He pulled out almost to the tip, watching the joining of their bodies. The way Dean’s opening clutched at his cock like a hungry mouth, and he slid in, and God he needed this. Needed to be inside Dean, to possess him, to know Dean was his, only his because this was all he needed. Everything else fell away. 

Dean’s fingers were digging into his thighs, and God, that felt good. “More, more,” Dean begged, and Sam obliged, driving into him without restraint. His own fingers dug into Dean’s hips with what was sure to leave bruises. Dean was panting and moaning and cussing. Dean let go of Sam’s thigh to stroke his cock, which was drooling precome onto his stomach. And the visual of Dean stroking himself, while Sam fucked him, Dean’s beautiful, lust-filled face, had Sam’s balls tightening, a knot of tension sitting in his core that suddenly exploded along his spine and limbs. Sam thrust hard, once, twice, driving hard into Dean, filling him with hot, slick come. And Dean arched off the bed, shooting ropey jets of it across his stomach and chest. 

Sam bent forward and licked the come off Dean’s body while Dean idly ran his fingers through Sam’s hair. When he’d licked his way to Dean’s mouth, Sam spent a few moments worshipping the most sinful lips he’d ever seen. 

“Mmm, love the way you taste,” Sam whispered. 

“Sammy …”

“Shh, not done.” Sam sucked on Dean’s bottom lip and licked into his mouth before settling on his side with an arm and leg thrown over his brother. 

Dean kissed his temple. “Okay, talk to me.”

Sam pressed his face into the curve of Dean’s neck. “Hm-mm. Sleep.”

“Sam.”

He could tell Dean wasn’t going to let it go. Sam sat up. “I could use a beer. How about you?”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, okay.”

They both got up and went into the bathroom to clean up. They hadn’t forgotten that lesson. Dean pulled on a pair of boxers, but Sam walked into the kitchen naked and came back with two long necks.

“So…” Dean prompted, leaning back on the bed and watching as his brother folded his long limbs onto the bed next to him.

Sam shrugged. “You were right.” He took a long swig of beer and sat shoulder to shoulder with Dean on the bed.

“And …”

“And then the mugger.”

“Was he armed?” 

Sam nodded. “Knife. I broke his wrist and his nose.”

Dean laughed, eyes shining. “That’s my boy.” He patted Sam’s thigh and left his warm, sure hand resting there.

Sam smiled. “That wasn’t quite Jess’s reaction.”

Dean shrugged. “Civilian. She was in shock.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know if she was more freaked out by the mugger or me.”

“Hmm, because you don’t fight like a drunk frat boy. How long did it take you to fuck him up? Ten, fifteen seconds?”

“Dean.”

“No, I’m making a point here, Sam.” 

“I just, I don’t know. I don’t think I handled it very well.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That Dad was a Marine. You know, he taught us how to fight.”

“That’s not a lie.”

“But it’s not the whole truth either.” Sam drained his beer and shook his head. “It’s just the same thing. You know, that moment when you start lying to people who could have been your friends.”

Dean stroked Sam’s thigh. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

“When dad talked to you in St. Louis, did he give you the normal life speech?” Sam asked.

Dean raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“Yeah, me too. How does he think that’s possible? That we could ever have that? I mean, the moment I start lying, it’s over, you know? I, hell, I don’t even know what it is. How can he not understand that? This …” Sam’s voice cracked. “You and me, this is normal.” Tears stung his eyes.

“That’s what I told him,” Dean said. He took the empty bottle from Sam and set it on the table. Then he wrapped his arms around Sam; held him close and kissed his forehead, cheeks, eyelids, before settling on his lips, softly, chastely. He put a finger to Sam’s lips, and Sam sucked it into his mouth contentedly. They sat like that for awhile, until Sam felt relaxed and sleepy and Dean felt stiff … He chuckled.

Sam lifted his head, releasing Dean’s now pruney finger. “What?”

“Just remembering when you used to be small, and I could carry you around.”

Sam settled back against Dean with a sleepy hum.


End file.
